Waiting to Happen
by At the writer's block
Summary: Terra is being trained on how to properly "interact" with civillians for after she and Slade have taken over Jump City, but something goes wrong.  Another entry for my lover100 challenge.


**TITLE**: Waiting to Happen

**FANDOM:** Teen Titans

**PAIRING:** Slade/Terra

**PROMPT:** Prompt #___018. Accident_

**RATING:** PG-13

**WORD COUNT:** 2,866

**SUMMARY:** A practice run goes wrong, and Terra needs some help. She just isn't sure what kind of help…

**NOTES:** Set after Betrayal, as Terra is training for the events of Aftershock.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything related to anything I mention here!

* * *

Terra was supposed to be practicing interacting with civilians as Slade's "muscle". She was supposed to find an unsuspecting walker in Jump City, harass him a bit, and knock him out. The idea was, if she could practice now, when they took over Jump City, it wouldn't be so difficult for Terra to adjust to a constant violent lifestyle. She wasn't allowed to use her powers unless absolutely necessary, as she was really only supposed to scare them. Slade would be watching the whole time, just in case…but he couldn't move fast enough to help her.

The man she picked for her first run tried to pull a gun on her (apparently she couldn't find anyone "unsuspecting" enough for the exercise), and while she tried to disarm him, she twisted the man's hand away, and the man accidently pulled the trigger.

Terra ran as soon as she was sure the blood wasn't hers.

When she finally got back to his –or was it their?- lair, the first thing she did was yank at the top of her bloodstained bodysuit, only remembering in that instant that it was lined with Kevlar. Beginning to feel anger lace her fear, she began pulling her bodysuit down to her hips. As she hopped the next few steps down the hall, through the entrance, she pulled the rest of the bodysuit down her legs, nearly falling as she pulled her feet through. She did trip when her boots snagged on the leg, and as she caught her balance, she smacked the wall she landed against. It didn't help.

Slade found her punching and kicking the wall and cursing guns, training, men, and the whole world, in nothing but her drag shorts and sports bra. When he got close enough to lay a hand on her shoulder, she leapt away from him. "Don't you dare touch me," she hissed, pointing at him for emphasis. Slade took in her bloody knuckles, and the stain on the wall, but didn't say anything.

"Don't _touch_me!" she repeated, backing against the wall she had just been beating. Her breathing began to quicken as she continued; "You were supposed be _helping_ me, you – God-!" Her back hit the wall, and she slid down it, beginning to sob. "It was supposed to be a goddamn practice run…

"Don't touch me…" she repeated once more, weaker than before. She wiped her face, and then, realizing that she had dragged her bloody hands across her cheeks, gagged.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, I'll admit-" Terra let out a harsh scoff, interrupting him, "But now you can learn how to handle it-"

"By breaking down in your hallway?" she mumbled scathingly. Slade sighed, and moved to sit next to her on the floor "Don't-"

"I know, don't touch you," he says, resisted the urge to say something sarcastic or angry.

"Well then _don't_."

"Terra, how was I supposed to know this would happen?"

She doesn't say anything to that. What could she say?

After a long minute sitting against the wall, Terra finally says "Can you pass me my shirt? I need to clean up my knuckles."

"I have more sterile supplies in the infirmary."

"Of course you do, you're prepared for everything." He stands up, but when she tries to she stops short and gasps in pain. "My _shins_," she hisses, grabbing her knees for support. "Too much running," she adds, trying to joke as she finally stands upright. She feels sick just after for saying it.

They walk, or in Terra's case, hobble, to the infirmary; Terra falls back into a chair as soon as she can, closing her eyes as she leans back, trying to think of anything but the nausea and the fatigue she feels. She listens to Slade rummage through the cabinets, looking for god-knows-what to clean her up. "You're going to need more than bandages, at least before you go to bed."

"No…way. I'm too tired to do anything else right now; I am going straight to bed after this."

"You're going to sleep in dirty drag shorts?" he asks, walking over with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton balls. His comment causes Terra to look down at herself, and when she realizes what she's wearing her face flushes, and she bites her lip. Slade pretends not to notice.

The next few minutes are silent, punctuated by Terra wincing and gasping at the rubbing alcohol Slade swabs over her split knuckles. "I hope you've learned from this," he says, wrapping gauze around her hand.

"Yeah-next time I'll keep my gloves on." When he fixes her with a stern gaze, Terra quickly mumbles, "Or not…"

"What you need to do is control your temper, and perhaps take a shower; you're still covered in-ah..."

She nods, but when she stands again, she groans. "My ff…" The rest comes out as a sigh.

"I'll assume that was a curse?"

"My legs are on _fire_ right now." She opens her mouth to say something else, but she doesn't get to finish her thought; Slade slides one arm under her knees, and another behind her back, and he's carrying her out of the infirmary. "What are you-?"

"You pushed yourself too hard tonight, without stretching properly, and I will not let you use that as an excuse not to clean yourself."

"I am too tired to deal with this!' He ignores her, and keeps walking. "Slade, please, just put me down; I just want to go to bed."

"If you can't handle taking care of yourself, maybe you can't handle anything else I need you to do." He says this without impatience, but plenty of disappointment, which silences her. She dips her head so that her hair falls in front of her face, but peeks between the strands, watching him. She knows he's doing what he thinks is best…and its working. He is staying constant in his reprimands and general unable-to-please-or-be-pleased attitude, and it's helping in an odd way.

She mumbles, "You can put me down now," when they get to her room. For an instant it feels like he's tightened his grip, but then her feet are brushing the floor and he lets her down gently. "Thank you."

"In all seriousness, Terra, this is what it's going to be like. Can you handle this?"

She tucks her chin to her chest and looks to the side. "I think I can."

"If I asked you to, would you go back out tomorrow night to try again?"

She is silent for almost too long.

"Terra?"

"I will."

"Good. Go get cleaned up."

"Yes sir."

She turns away, walks into her room and closes the door behind her, but not before listening to Slade walk away. She looks down at her hands again and shudders. The blood staining her hands and sports bra is turning brown. Terra rips what's left of her clothes off and away from her before walking into her adjoining bathroom. She turns the shower on, twisting the faucet easily. Before the water has even warmed up all the way, she steps in under the spray, and leans against the wall. It stings her knuckles briefly, and Terra flexes them to ease it, stretching her legs as well to help the tension leave her muscles. Dully, robotically, she cleans her hair and lets the suds run down her body. She watches the dirty bubbles and water turn clear and clean again.

As she stares down at the drain, Terra lets her forehead rest against the cool tile. The water beats a rhythm into her hair that helps her block out the man's face, the run back home, the gunshot, the pain in her legs, the fear in his eyes before he collapsed against her, pulling on her sleeve, his face, he pulling her down with him, staring in shock and fear and anguish and he pulled on her, tried to take her away-

Terra dry heaves and slides down to her knees, struggling to normalize her breathing. Soon, she's hyperventilating and trying not to cry again. She'll never forget his face, she knows this now. She remembers, vaguely, the promise she made to Slade earlier. Can she try this again? She wants revenge, yes, but against the Titans. Civilians... they're different. She's not sure she can do what needs to be done. Not if this is what it means. She still can't control her own body, how can she try to control other people, use scare tactics to make them do what she wants? What is she going to do? She curls her hands in front of her, watching them shake.

'_Trust him,_' she thinks, '_He'll know what to do._' This thought begins to relax her, and for the first time since it happened, she doesn't see the stranger's face when she closes her eyes. Now, instead she sees Slade, masked, unmasked, battle worn, angry, alert, and so on...she leans her head against her knees. She is calm again.

Then the water turns cold.

"Jesus fucking-!" She pushes herself against the wall, as far from the freezing water as she can. She splutters out another half-curse, and looks up at the faucet, which is now too close to the blue "C", far closer than when she left it. Behind the fluttering shower curtain, she recognizes the black workout pants. "Slade! What the hell?"

"You've been in here, using up hot water, for close to twenty minutes; I might ask you the same thing." The hedging anger in his voice doesn't prevent her from glaring at his silhouette.

"You could knock!"

"I did. You were too busy examining your knee caps to respond." He pushes the shower curtain to one side, cocks an eyebrow, and adds "You seem to be cleaned up anyway."

Terra almost jumps up in anger, before realizing that would probably be what he would want. She wraps her arms around her legs, grateful for long hair and for her knees bent against her chest. Still...

"Shut off the water and get to bed. We're still training tomorrow morning, no matter how tired you claim to be." He turns to walk away, before-

"Wait!" He stops short, and Terra blurts out, "The-the bandages on my knuckles are wet. I forgot to cover them up. Can you help me?"

After a moment, he says, "Yes. But shut the water off first. And-" he says this in such a way Terra can _see_ the smirk on his face without having to actually see it, "-You _could_ get dressed." And then he walks out. Terra shivers, not entirely because of the cold water.

She shuts the water off, and takes a deep breath. Hoping that she made the right choice, she wraps herself in her bathrobe and towel-dries her hair as quickly as possible. All the while, she wonders. When Slade first brought her here, she was paranoid that there would be cameras everywhere and that he would be watching her every move. He is, occasionally, "hands on" with her, but Terra isn't sure what sort of boundaries she is supposed to have set up. How should she know if his hands running through her hair or the way he rubs her shoulder after a good training session is not appropriate? She doesn't know what she's going to see when she walks back into her room, and she stares at the doorknob for what seems like a long time, weighing her options.

She hasn't felt like this in a while. She hasn't kissed anyone before. She doesn't know what to expect. What is she going to do?

She wonders if Slade will come in after her if she doesn't leave the bathroom soon. The thought warms Terra unexpectedly, and she shudders.

Terra exhales slowly, trying to slow her breathing again, and turns the handle. Slade is sitting on her bed like he belongs there, holding fresh bandages for her hands. She must look worse than she thought, because he asks her, "Are you feeling well?"

"I guess." Terra's still standing in the doorway, and even though she has tied her bathrobe up, she is still clutching it closed, just in case. He sways in her line of vision, and then she realizes that everything is swaying, and her eyes fall closed. His hands are on her and she feels her eyes burning with tears and he's saying her name and she's feeling dizzy. She's shivering again, shaking in his arms, and she feels her blankets beneath her. _'When did I get to the bed?'_ she wonders dully, and she hears her name again. His hands are still on her.

She tries to ask Slade a question, but she keeps gasping for air, beginning to hyperventilate again. She feels him leave her, then something under her feet. Her door opens. Her hands feel cold.

When she blinks her eyes open she can see her spackled ceiling, but her eyes don't stay open for long.

She hears her door close and he's back. "I was worried this would happen."

"Mwffm," she tries. Then, "Mmwam?"

"You're in shock. I had a feeling this would happen, I should have been more prepared." He's rubbing something into her shoulders and along her collarbones, and very faintly, she can smell lavenders. "How long have you been shivering like this?"

"Mm shiverin?" So that's why. She had thought it was for a different reason…

"Terra, open your eyes." She does, and tries to keep them open long enough to focus. His hands have stopped working along her shoulders, and he's looking down on her. Is he worried?

"Slllade?" Better that time. The lavenders are so strong, but there's something else there too. "What is that stuff?"

"It'll help." He begins to massage her shoulders again. She's wondering what happened with her bathrobe that he can reach there. "You're breathing better, aren't you?"

She didn't even notice. Her breathing is slow and even again, and her hands aren't cold anymore. "How…?"

"How did I know, or how did it happen?"

"Both. I-mmm…" She meant to ask something else, but one of his hands slipped and she lost her train of thought.

"It was pretty traumatic, for a first kill." He said this so casually, Terra had to force herself to remember he was a fighter and mercenary first, but his _hands_… "To be honest, I wonder why you didn't pass out earlier. You're stronger than I expected, Terra."

This makes her smile, however weakly. It warms her almost as much as the massage does. "Thanks." She shifts her legs, and then frowns. "What's under my feet?"

"Your extra pillows. Your legs needed to be elevated to ensure proper blood flow. And, before you ask again, this is a lavender and chamomile lotion. It's supposed to be calming."

"Sssworking. Sort of." She was feeling woozy, but also warm and comfortable even though her shoulders felt bare. She hardly notices anymore. "Why do you have-?"

"I knew I would need it," he says plainly.

"You really are super prepared, aren't you?"

"Of course." She would expect nothing less, especially after having trained with him for so long now.

"Can I sleep now?"

"If you want to, then yes." His hands leave her and she almost wishes she hadn't said anything, until he begins to help her up, lifting her with a hand on her back. As she sits up to shift under her blankets, her bathrobe slides completely off her shoulders…and down.

They both stop moving.

Terra is very, very aware that Slade still has a hand on the small of her back. Through her hair, she can see him look away, but not quickly enough to ease her embarrassment. She pulls her bathrobe back up, slowly, hoping he would stop her, yet at the same time hoping he would leave. "'m sorry."

"It's fine."

She stares at her hands resting in her lap, thinking over everything that has happened to her these past few hours. The bandages on her hands that don't really _need_ to be changed, but she wants them to be. She wants him to touch her again, she wants to forget everything again.

And yet, she isn't sure it's what she needs. But he'll know.

"Slade?" He's looking away from her, at the door, deep in thought. "Can you...?"

"He stands up slowly, and Terra lets her question die in her throat. She feels excited and nervous and like she'll be sick again. She can't figure herself out, and she needs his help now.

"You need your rest." Her shoulders slump, and when she tries to protest, he shakes his head, looks right into her eyes, and says, "Not tonight."

She gazes at him pleadingly before resigning herself to his decision. It doesn't make it hurt any less when he gets up and walks out.

Now that the choice has been made for her, she can rest, however unwillingly or fitfully. What eases her the most isn't how relaxed she is from the shower or the lavender-scented cream. It's the last two words he said to her, which held more promise and security than anything else.

Because, of course, there was always tomorrow night.


End file.
